


Harry Hart is not a pug person

by bittenbullet



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Biting, Cooking, Crack, Cussing, Dogs, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Harry Lives, Harry is a great cook, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Nervousness, Sarcasm, Sexual Tension, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4086937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenbullet/pseuds/bittenbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy goes on a mission in Belgium. Harry dogsits JB.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry Hart is not a pug person

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to Grass for beta-ing this mess of a fic. 
> 
> I read a dogfic from another fandom years ago and really loved the idea, so apologies if this feels vaguely familiar. I can't even remember which fandom it was from. If any of you know, please be so kind to PM me the link so I can credit it properly.

“Absolutely not,” Harry said.

“Oh come on Harry,” Eggsy said. “It’s only for six weeks.”

“I am severely allergic to dog hair,” Harry sniffed, holding JB away from himself as far as humanly possible. “Mr. Pickles gave me a runny nose for eleven bloody years.”

“You’re just making up all these lame excuses because you’re afraid JB will shed on your expensive penguin suits,” Eggsy said resentfully. “I don’t think that’s kind.”

“What about your mother?” Harry said. 

Eggsy heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Mum is on holiday with her new boyfriend, George-what’s-his-name,” he said glumly. “Nice bloke, but dumb as a box of hair. I had to hand Daisy off to Roxy and that cute redhead she’s been seeing, Megan. And before you suggest Roxy to keep JB too, she tried to shoot him in the nuts after he ate one of her socks on movie night. I don’t think she’s feeling very friendly right now.”

JB wagged his stubby tail and strained to lick Harry in the face. Recoiling, Harry tried to thrust JB back into Eggsy’s arms, but Eggsy ducked neatly with spy-like reflexes and put a table between them, the corners of his mouth kicking up in a crooked grin. Harry’s eyes narrowed. It was like a Mexican stand-off: Harry half expected tumbleweeds to roll into view. 

Merlin chose that moment to walk into the conference room, a manila folder tucked carefully under his arm. He pulled the coffee mug away from his lips and raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Harry has graciously offered to dogsit JB for me while I go on that recon thing in Belgium, instead of leaving him all alone in my empty house to starve and die of hopelessness and despair,” Eggsy said, before Harry could open his mouth to protest.

“A true gentleman,” Merlin said, deadpan.

“The boy is lying,” Harry said. “I offered no such thing.”

“Word of warning, Eggsy. JB will get fat,” Merlin said. “Because Harry makes a mean lamb pie.”

“Are you saying Harry can cook?” Eggsy said, canting his head to the side, green eyes bright and gleeful. 

“Harry is a fucking amazing stress baker. He says he makes the best marble brownies, but in my humble opinion it’s his pecan pie that truly shines.”

“That’s hot,” Eggsy said, the amused smile sharpening into a truly terrifying predator grin.

“It is, isn’t it? Which is horrifying, because it’s _Harry_.”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Harry said between his teeth.

“Speaking of which, he hasn’t gone on a date since 1999,” Merlin continued placidly. “Which is just sad. And maybe a tad pathetic.”

“ _You_ take him then,” Harry said, shoving JB at Merlin’s chest. Fast as a whip, Merlin dodged with feline grace and took a sip of coffee.

“I can’t. I have cats.”

“You do look like a cat person,” Eggsy mused, completely sidetracked. “How many cats do you have?”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand,” Harry said. “I feel that it was kind of important.”

“For fuck’s sake, the boy is not asking you to adopt JB and keep him for life,” Merlin said. “Just take the damn dog.”

Harry blew out a sigh. He knew when to pick his battles. 

“Six weeks,” Harry said, defeated.

“Six,” Eggsy confirmed, smug. 

“It warms my heart to know your soul isn’t carved out of stone.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

*** 

The first night JB stayed over, Harry found himself knee-deep in the seventh circle of hell. The thunder and lightning outside just served to be a dramatic backdrop for the complete shithole that was his life.

“I thought Eggsy said he had you trained,” Harry groaned at three in the morning, pulling a pillow over his face as JB clawed relentlessly on his bedroom door and howled like the entire world was coming down in shambles and Harry’s room was the only safe house left standing. 

The scratching noise was driving Harry _mad_. He whipped the sheets off his torso, flung open the door to berate the animal, and JB darted between his legs and made an impressive flying leap for the bed.

“No,” Harry said, picking up JB and depositing him on the floor. To be fair, the rug was not very comfortable, so Harry fished around in his drawers until he came up with some old but clean towels. While he was down on his knees arranging them into a makeshift dog mattress, he realized he was at eye-level with JB because the pug was staring at him _from his bed_.

“No,” Harry said emphatically, picking up JB again and placing him on top of the towels. JB snuffled his nose against the fabric and dug around some, and sank into the towels with a disgruntled whine. Satisfied, Harry climbed into bed and pulled the sheets over his shoulders. 

After a few minutes, he felt a warm, solid weight settle on his stomach. 

“Bad dog,” Harry said severely, hauling JB up by the collar and setting him on the floor for the third time. With a lot of reluctance, he gave JB one of his pillows. “There,” Harry told the pug. “You and me, we’re even.” 

He turned to get back into bed and stepped on something small and furry and warm. The pitiful whimper that followed made every hair on the back of his neck stand on end; he felt like the _absolute worst person in the entire world_. Harry looked down at JB in horror, who stared back with huge, sad, watery brown eyes, holding up his paw like it was badly burned.

“For the love of god,” Harry said, throwing up both arms in exasperation. “Alright. Just take the fucking bed.”

JB didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped, half-shredding Harry’s sheets in the process, turned clockwise three times, and settled on top of Harry’s pillow with a deeply contented sigh.

The following morning, Harry ended up late for work because he spent an extra fifteen minutes at home attacking his bed diligently with a lint roller. 

*** 

Six weeks later, Eggsy showed up at Harry’s door beaming like the sun. 

“I come bearing gifts,” Eggsy declared, shoving a small wicker basket into Harry’s hands as JB danced around Eggsy’s ankles, his tiny body vibrating with barely suppressed joy. “You like dark chocolate, right? Merlin told me. It’s Pierre Marcolini and it’s like, the poshest, most expensive shit I could find in Brussels.”

“Thank you, Eggsy,” Harry said, setting the gift basket down on the ground at his feet. JB picked up the handle carefully between his teeth, trotted up the stairs, and carried it back into the house without dropping a single item in the basket, his head held high.

Eggsy whistled. "I’m impressed. It took me six weeks just to teach him how to sit.”

“His owner did not discipline him well enough,” Harry said primly. “It was simple, really. All JB needed was a firm hand.” He neglected to mention he had to bribe JB with numerous treats just to learn how to roll over, or how often he caught himself feeding JB scraps from the table, or that JB still could not sleep anywhere but atop his expensive silk sheets. 

“He really likes you, you know,” Eggsy said, his face splitting in a wide grin. “He wouldn’t put out just for anyone.”

Harry refused to dignify that with a response.

“I really like you too,” Eggsy added casually, almost as an afterthought. Harry sucked in a deep breath as the statement hit him like a punch in the solar plexus. “And I’ve been thinking, since you’ve already adopted one dog, what’s one more?”

“Pardon my language, but did you just compare yourself to a fucking pug,” Harry said.

“Is that a yes?” Eggsy asked, rocking back on the balls of his feet. Despite the shark grin staying in place, his face looked a little uncertain. Really, Harry shouldn’t find that endearing. “I promise I don’t bite.”

Harry answered by grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pulling Eggsy’s face to his, sealing their mouths together. The kiss involved a lot of roving hands and clashing teeth, and there was nothing gentlemanly about it at all. Harry’s lips moved from Eggsy’s mouth to the side of his jaw, and Eggsy’s eyes slid shut on their own accord. 

Until Harry’s teeth sank into the side of his neck, digging in hard, making Eggsy yelp and flail around a little because _ow fuckity ow_ , that _hurt_. Harry pulled away as Eggsy clapped a hand over the spot he had just bitten, checking to make sure he hadn’t broken skin.

“What the fuck, Harry?” Eggsy said indignantly. 

“You may not bite, but I do,” Harry said, turning on his heel and walking up the stairs into the house without looking back.

He left his front door wide open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the ending is a bit abrupt. It seemed appropriate. 
> 
> It's my first foray into the fandom. I'd love to know what you think. Comments/kudos are greatly appreciated.


End file.
